Prayer For The Dying
by phoenix521
Summary: my attempt to show the relationship between spike and vicious, you know, before the whole julia mishap. it's worth the read. it's a good interp from the bits of info we get from the series, i think. i believe you'll like it! rated for language.
1. Fearless People

_Author's Note: So, yes, this is a song-based fic, but then again, it's so much more. Intentionally, this was supposed to be a strictly Vicious fic, but Spike, of course, tried to steal the show. Basically, I'm trying to show that Vicious wasn't always, well..crazy. Events, as you will see, lead up to it all. Also, this will be a chaptered fic, so, yeah. Um, Vicious' dad is kinda intense, so be aware. But anyways...Here ya go, I hope you enjoy!

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_---Prayer for the Dying---_

_**Fearless people…**_

Silver eyes. By God, he had silver eyes. Eyes that bore into your very soul, acting as if he could see through your every front. But then again, perhaps his eyes just matched his silver hair, which stopped just at his shoulders.

Taking a drag off of his third cigarette of the night, the man sat unnoticed in the back of the club. _Le Chate Dior _was the name of the joint; a quaint little jazz hub which often times doubled as a meeting ground. He had been waiting a little over and hour, but that was no surprise. He always came early to hear the music, and the man he was waiting for was always late.

As the man drifted into attentive daydreaming, the band struck a low chord and thrummed out a slow and haunting melody.

'Lost Man Blues,' the silver-eyed man thought, sorrow nipping at his heart. He definitely was a lost man…but what did that matter? This lost man had a place. And if he had anything to do with it, he'd be at the top of it all in no time.

As someone occupied the chair across the table from him, the self proclaimed 'lost man' focused his attention onto him.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, Vicious," the man simply stated.

"Not at all, Wade. You should realize by now that I have a fondness for the music," Vicious replied in turn.

As a small staring contest ensued, one strictly made to establish dominance, Vicious wondered how long it would be before Wade looked away. He always looked away first. Vicious and his silver eyes would always hit their target like cool bullets, which always made anyone else look away quickly.

Not even twenty seconds later, Wade let out a sigh and put his bag on the table.

"You know, Vicious, one day, someone will make you look away."

"You look away because you have fear. You fear me, though you may never admit it. Everyone fears something. Everyone, save myself. I doubt another like me exists, therefore, I doubt I'll ever look away."

"Whatever you say, Vicious, whatever you say," Wade said as he rolled his eyes at another one of Vicious' roundabout riddles. Pulling out a vanilla folder, Wade pushed it toward the young man. "Here. It has everything that you need. You know: names, addresses; all that jazz…"

As if on que, the tenor saxophone roared a heart-wrenching note, as if echoing the emptiness the seemed ever-present in the heart of the silver-eyed man.

"Of course, Wade. It will be done by tomorrow night. Don't worry."

"We never do, Vicious. You're one of the best we have. And for shit's sake, you're barely twenty! It's like killing is in your blood or something like that."

"Yeah, something like that," Vicious mumbled. He pushed up from the table, stopping momentarily to ground out his cigarette and grab the folder, and then he was off, lost in the crowd, and lost to the world again.

"That man'll either kill us all, or rule us all. He always was one of those 'fearless people'," Wade chuckled to himself as he signaled for a drink.

_**Careless Needle…**_

He remembered when this had all began. He remembered when he had 'earned' his place. He remembered all to clear. Funny, though, his mind was far from clear when this all started.

* * *

'_A hit, a hit! God damnit, I need another fucking hit!' the silver-haired youth thought as he carelessly rambled through his room._

_He was on a four day drug bender, nothing but cocaine, the only thing he dared put into his system. He had first injected himself with the white powder a year ago. It was his fifteenth birthday present to himself. And ever since then, it was something he definitely got used to fast._

_At first, he just took the damned stuff to be cool. How he always wanted to be cool. His father was rich, a prominent business man, and his mother was the perfect trophy wife. And he was supposed to be the perfect son: smart, handsome, athletic and successful. Well, he was smart, no doubt about that. He'd been wandering the streets, high as a kite and decked out in expensive clothing, and managed to stay alive. He was handsome, he figured: he lost his virginity not long after his first hit. Athleticism and success eluded him, however. He detested sports of a physical nature. He refused to become brutish, dirty and injured. He opted for chess, the intellectual game. His father, however, was not too pleased._

_His father was the star quarterback in high school, a legend in his own right. Vicious, or Valerian, as he was christened, would always cringe when he heard the over-time story. And when he didn't decide to fall into his father's footsteps, in sports or business, let's just say, Val's father decided to focus all of his attention on his second son, the 'promising' one._

_Shortly after, Vicious decided that his father, and the whole lot of them, could all go to hell. And when his fifteenth birthday went unnoticed, due to his father's merger and his brother's all star game, Val turned to something to take his pain away. As he stuck the needle into his arm for the very first time, he felt his heart break. But shortly thereafter, he couldn't feel anything at all._

_**Harsh words spoken…**_

"_You little fucker! Chess? Books? Poetry? Are you one of those fucking faggots? I bet you are! Damnit, I always knew you'd be a disappointment! All I wanted was to say that I was proud of my sons. I got a good one. But shit, I also got a queer! How could I ever think that I'd be happy because of you?"_

_"I…I'm sorry, dad. Really, I am. I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't!" the youth screamed as he was pulled into the car._

_His father had had enough. He found out about the drugs. He had also found some shit about Dragons or something. Not only was his son a queer failure, he also still believed in magical creatures. And that was the final straw. Now it was off to boarding school with young Val. And after that? Well, off to the army, of course. His father was going to make something out of Val, even if Val wasn't going to make something out of himself._

_He refused to cry as the car speed down the elaborate driveway of his family's lavish mansion. He would make his father proud. Somehow, he'd find a way. But he'd be damned if he was going to boarding school. And the military? His father had to be out of his fucking mind. But then again, who wasn't in this life?_

_**And lives are broken.**_

_He wasn't going to go. It was as simple as that._

_He had been in the car, on his way, though against his will, to _Raylin's School for Wayward Youth._ He wasn't going to go. He wasn't wayward, he wasn't any of that._

_He sighed when he realized he couldn't get out of the car without the driver noticing. And then there would be too much trouble to deal with. He sighed again, and settled on his only option. No, there where actually several options for him to choose, but this is the one he decided on. And the only one that would get him into the Dragons, which just so happened to _not_ be a bunch of 'magical creatures'._

_He pulled out a small knife from his backpack. He deftly kissed the blade, snuck up behind the driver, and jerked the knife across._

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His mind was wondering again. It always happened when he flew. Sighing to himself as he came in for a landing, Vicious guarded himself again. He had to stop thinking about his father. And the first time he killed someone. His father had sent him off so he would never think about him again. He had killed the driver so he could have his freedom. He was living life for himself, now, well the Dragons, actually. And that would have to be enough. 

He opened the folder once more to remember the name, more for comfort than necessity.

"Spike Spiegel. Isn't that a catchy name? Barely twenty years old and getting ready to die. Such a pity for you," Vicious said to himself. "Let's just hope this doesn't take too long, I've got some things to do tonight."

He opened the door to the apartment building, _The Crater Arms_, and headed for the fourth floor, and his unsuspecting target.

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_A/N: So, this is the end of the first chapter. How did you like it? Hope it was okay. So, if you really wanna let me know, why not hit that review button and let me know. But please, no harsh words. Thanks. And if you really want me to, I'll post the rest of the chapters; I've already got 'em done. Well, just let me know and have an awesome night/day/whatever time it is where you are!_


	2. Forceful Aging

_A/N: So, here's the second cahpter. And I guess I apologize to Seal, because this is his song, "Prayer For The Dying", and I just plum forgot to say that. But I'm sayin' it now, so it all works out in the end. So, here ya go. Enjoy some more!

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_**Forceful Aging…**_

Spike Spiegel was a punk. A grade A, certified punk. An orphan since who knows; he had made the streets his home. But hey, even a street punk needs a roof over his head. So, in his spare time, he flipped burgers down at Martian Joe's. It didn't pay well and he swore that his arteries would be clotted by the time he was 30, but it paid him enough to get some really crappy apartments in a really crappy part of town. But no matter.

He knew how to take care of himself. He'd become fluent in Jeet Kwon Do. However, it wasn't exactly a language. Unless you classify it a language of the body. In that case, then he was probably the master. Just short of Bruce Lee, his (deceased) teacher and mentor. Old VHS tapes and Earth really were good for something.

But this Mars born youth was also getting fed up with flipping burgers and dodging the local gangs. Lord knows he'd never join one. They were too sloppy and often times inefficient. This Syndicate thing didn't sound so bad, though. He wasn't a fan of drugs, himself. He liked to be of sound mind at all times. But he could be persuaded (for the right amount) to deliver drugs to someone. No problem with that at all.

He had also heard that the Syndicate was really dangerous. And getting in was next to impossible. It's not like you can just stroll into Syndicate HQ and fill out an application. But interestingly enough, that's what Spike had done. Smart? Of course not. But then again, Spike always did do stupid things. But in the most brilliant of ways.

Actually, it appeared as though his efforts might pay off. He received and inconspicuous letter from the Red Dragons, one of the most powerful syndicates this side of the solar system. The letter said, though not simply, that he'd be contacted in Syndicate style, and then it would be determined whether or not he was "what we are looking for."

Switching his television off and saying a little prayer to Bruce, Spike headed off to bed. He had to be at the Martian at 6 a.m. That was ridiculous in his opinion, but hey, valuable members of society needed their body killing breakfast. At this rate, he'd have an old man's attitude to go with his clogged arteries.

Settling into his freshly changed sheets (the old ones had seen 10,000 miles of use), Spike checked his alarm one more time and said goodbye to the real world. And what do you know? He surely said it in more ways then one.

_**Help me, I'm fading…**_

Vicious strolled into the apartments as if it were nothing at all.

'How could someone live here?' he thought to himself.

Vicious always prided himself on being neat and well kept. It appeared that this Spike person didn't feel the same way. As a cockroach scuttled across his feet, Vicious picked up the pace. He could almost feel the dirt seeping into his skin.

He chose the elevator, though many a time, he was told to take the stairs. But the stairs were too suspicious. And why draw unnecessary attention to yourself? Vicious had his own style of killing, his own style of anything, so he'd keep doing it this way until he encountered a reason to stop.

The bell dinged at the fourth floor. Vicious strolled out of the vessel and proceeded down the hall. He was looking for room 439, and he hoped he reached it soon.

Finally, there it was. As he stood for a moment, he thought about his entrance. Bust the door open? No, too loud. Knock and then force your way in? No, too much trouble. Pulling something from his pocket, he had made up his mind: pick the lock and sneak in. Not too hard.

As he heard the click, Vicious slowly pushed the door open. To his surprise, and good fortune, the door did not squeak, it just swung quietly open. Closing the door back, he crept down the hallway. He could hear his victim snoring.

'This is going to be easier than I expected,' Vicious thought to himself as he put a hand on the doorknob. He pushed the door open and just barely missed the bullet that was roaring towards his head.

'What the hell!' he thought, as he dodged another bullet.

"He man, I don't know who the fuck you are or what you want, but you're in my place, so I can legally kill you!" the youth bit out.

Vicious stared at the young man.

'So this is Spike Spiegel,' Vicious mussed. He was an odd looking fella. Tall and lanky and incredibly skinny. But he definitely had enough sinewy muscles on his slim frame. And to top it all off, his head was covered with some shaggy rug. What, no…that was just his hair.

Vicious visibly chuckled at this man's balls. Obviously, he didn't know who he was dealing with.

_**Heaven's waiting…**_

Four more shots went off. Three missed the sliver-haired man and one was deflected by the sword he had pulled from somewhere on his person.

Cursing as he fired his last bullet, the lanky youth grabbed the closet thing he could find and chucked it at the intruder.

As the object hit the target, the man with the sword stopped almost sunned for a milli-second.

'A pillow? Did he really just throw a pillow at me?'

'Fuck!' thought the youth, 'Did I _really_ just throw a God damn pillow at him?'

"That's some tactic, Spiegel, but rather ineffective."

That was a cold, bone chilling voice and Spike was almost totally caught off guard. And how did he know his name? Who in the hell was this man?

Sensing his shock, Vicious charged him, sword ready to pierce. But Spike snapped back to reality just at the right time, and landed a blow to Vicious' head with his right foot.

"Ha!" he cheered as the silver-haired man sank to the ground. "Bruce saves the day again!"

Spike carefully stepped over the fallen man and headed out of the room. But as he heard a moan of consciousness returning, Spike walked back to the man and grabbed his sword.

"Pretty fancy weapon you got there, buddy. But I'm gonna have to take this from you. Wouldn't want you to get hurt now," he grabbed the weapon and headed out to his living room. "I'm gonna go call the cops, now. I don't take kindly to murder attempts at three in the morning."

Vicious watched the young man stroll casually out of the room. As he sat up, he tried his best to keep his head from spinning. What in the hell was that move? And why hadn't he seen it coming? Who was this kid?

Picking himself up off the floor, Vicious righted himself and stalked off after Spike. He was sent here to kill him, and the only way he'd fail was to die himself. And quite frankly, that just wasn't an option.

_**It's time to move on.**_

"Turn around!" Vicious demanded. This was going to end now.

"Man, what do you want? What did I do to you?"

"You didn't do anything to me, personally, but my superiors want you dead. So, who am I to question them?"

"Well, aren't we a good little lap dog," Spike joked, as a cocky grin made its way to his face.

"You might want to watch your words," Vicious responded as he launched himself towards Spike.

The two met each other half way. Fist and feet and sweat flew. These two men were seemingly evenly matched. Neither one faltered, nor did they gain ground. Grunts of exertion and clever quips where exchanged between the two.

"Is that a dye job gone wrong?"

"What?" Spike asked as he dodged another punch.

"Your hair? That green is hideous."

"Hey, I don' make fun of you, gray-head."

"It's not grey, ass."

They continued their physical and verbal battle, both of them becoming steadily exhausted.

"You look like you're running out of steam, Spiegel."

"Not that easily. And hey, since you know my name, shouldn't I know yours, too?"

"You're a foolish man, Spike," Vicious replied, dodging those dangerous legs. "Vicious."

"Really? What a name," he smirked.

At the rate these two were going, they'd be fighting all night. However, Spike noticed sweat beads on Vicious' forehead, and he saw one sliding towards his eye. And just as he predicted, the salty droplet splashed into his opponent's eye, blinding him for a split second. But that was all that Spike needed.

He quickly did a roundhouse kick and landed the blow to the side of Vicious' head. Then he quickly landed an open hand blow to the middle of Vicious' chest, which effectively knocked the wind out of him. As Spike watched Vicious fall to the floor, he had to admire the man.

He was the only person Spike ever had to work at. Normally, Spike could have knocked a man out cold in three minutes or less. But this had been going on for almost two hours, and only a fluke brought him to the winner's circle.

Smirking slightly, Spike grabbed Vicious' sword and pointed the tip to his heart.

"Now, I could kill you, or I could let you go. Which one do you chose?"

"For my loss, I should die. Begging for my life would be looked down upon."

"How 'bout I spare you out of the kindness of my heart?"

"How do you know I won't turn around and kill you?"

"Because I don't die that easily."

With an unspoken understanding between the two, Spike tossed the sword aside and extended a hand to the fallen man. Begrudgingly taking it, Vicious allowed himself to be pulled up. With a slap on the back, Spike spun him towards the door.

"Well, man, you're an excellent fight. Now get on back to your place of residence, and let's never speak of this again," Spike said, realizing that he had work in about and hour.

"If you believe that this is over, then you would be wrong."

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Spike retorted as he opened his front door.

When he looked out, however, he found five men, all in black blazers with red bands on the right arm, smiling at him.

The man in the front began to applaud as the other four nodded in approval.

"Well done, Mr. Spiegel. Well done, indeed. You fought one of our best men, and actually beat him. That is a feat worthy of becoming a Red Dragon."

"What!" Spike screamed.

"Wade!" Vicious screeched. "You mean you used me as an initiation?"

"Yeah…sorry about that," Wade responded as he scratched the back of his head. "But look on the bright side…you now have a partner, worthy of your prescence.

"My partner…" both Spike and Vicious echoed. Spike was beaming, he was finally going to be a Dragon and do something exciting with his life. Vicious, however, had a look of utter horror on his face. This reckless youth with his tuft of horrendous green hair, cocky attitude an amazing fighting skills was going to be his _partner_? What did he do to deserve this?

"Grab some things, Mr. Spiegel. You won't be needing this shit-hole anymore," Wade said, breaking the shock. "When you're partner is ready to go, head back to headquarters, Vicious." And with that, the men disappeared down the dark hall.

"So, partner, looks like we have some adventure ahead of us," Spike beamed as he stared at a still shocked Vicious.

The two began an intense staring contest. Vicious shot his cool bullets, aka, silver eyes, while Spike just casually glared at him, as if it were nothing at all. What seemed like several minutes passed. Letting out a truly frustrated sigh, Vicious looked towards the door.

"Hurry up and let's go!"

Satisfied with himself, Spike bounded down the hall, leaving Vicious alone and infuriated.

'Damnit, I do _not_ need a partner!'

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_A/N: End of chap. 2. Yeah, I'll prolly post 2 more chaps tomorrow. Hope you liked it;I does my best. There's a lot of cussing in this fic, but I only do it because that just seems to be the way Spike and Vicious would interact with one another. Well, see ya later and thanks for you time!_


	3. Crossing That Bridge

_A/N: So, when I said I'd probably post 2 chapters next time around, I was actually lying. I'm only posting one. But hey, 1 is more than 0, so you've still won! I know, I know: unecessary and cheesy. Anyho, here's the next chapter. Read and enjoy!

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_**Crossing that bridge,  
**__**With lessons I've learned…**_

It had been two weeks since 'The Fight', as everyone called it. It was all around headquarters about how this crazy kid with the green hair actually beat Vicious. Needless to say, Vicious was furious. And to add insult to injury, Wade had actually meant it when he said Spike was going to be his partner. God damnit, why did he get the feeling that his life was about to get a million times harder?

"No, no, no…stop!" yelled an irritated silver-haired man.

"Hey! Why'd ya stop? I was doin' good!" whined a green haired youth.

"You're not supposed to just walk up and confront the target, Spiegel! How many times do I have to tell you?" the man yelled, obviously frustrated.

"What, V? I like doing things my own way. Ain't nothing wrong with that, right?" Spike replied, a sly smirk playing over his features as he crossed his arms.

Vicious felt his left eye twitch. If he could, he'd shoot Spike right now and relieve himself of such a pain.

"How many times do I have to ask you _not_ to call me 'V'?"

"Eh, sorry," Spike replied, suddenly very interested in his fingernails.

"Just…just do it again. And do it right, for God's sake. You don't get your own style after only two weeks."

"Yes sir!" Spike mocked as he gave Vicious a one finger salute.

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_**Playing with fire,  
**__**And not getting burned…**_

"So, V…do we attack before or _after_ they've killed us with their barrage of bullets?" Spike casually asked as another bullet whizzed past his head.

"I told you, don't call me 'V'," was all Vicious answered.

The two had unwittingly walked into an ambush. The Red Dragons never took anything at face value, so when Spike had finished his training, Vicious said he was good. But what better way to test his skills, than to give him a venue to display them in? So, a mock shoot-out was arranged in an abandoned wherehouse. Typical, I know.

However, Spike and Vicious weren't privy to the fact that this was just a fake. The bullets were rubber and the fight was staged. But again, Spike and Vicious did not know that.

In the end, let's just say it was an inconvenience for the other side. The new partners took out the opposition quite quickly, and subsequently, quite deadly. Later in the night, after Wade and the rest of the officers surveyed the damage and arranged to dispose of the bodies, did they decided that next time, they'll at least make sure _everyone_ has fake bullets.

_**I may not know what you're going through…**_

"Penny for your thoughts," Vicious said into the night air as he handed his partner a cigarette.

"We killed a lot of people back there," Spike answered, shuttering through his first puff.

"Yeah."

"That's all you can say? "Yeah"?"

"What do you want me to say, Spiegel? You're a member of a syndicate. Killing is a part of the job.

"Yeah, I guess so," Spike responded, suddenly not sure if he really wanted to be a part of this anymore.

_**But time is the space between me and you…**_

"Get over it, Spiegel. People die. Life isn't fair. Yada, yada, yada. Grow some thick skin, turn the other cheek, and always keep a full box of smokes.

Spike looked up at Vicious in slight disbelief. As he saw his partner start to walk away, Spike sprung up and trailed him.

"Where are we going?"

"Home. Since you are my…since we work together, you can stay with me."

Spike merely nodded. It hadn't occurred to him that he needed a place to stay; he'd been shacking up at HQ for the last two weeks. But he had clearance to leave the premises now. Sighing, Spike fell into step.

"We're all just ghost, anyway, Spike. Dead to the world because we simply don't exist. They usually don't tell the newbies that, but you'd figure it out, anyway. Come on, it's getting cold."

_**Life carries on…**_

Spike simply nodded.

_**It goes on.** _

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A/N: So, another chapter comes to a close. Hope you all are liking the flow. Things for this duo will get better...up until things fall apart. Or do they fall apart? Dun, dun, dun...yes. Yes they do. We wouldn't have our belove series if it didn't. Thanks a ton for the reviews. It really is a confidence booster and you write such wonderful comments, so thanks a ton! See ya later!


	4. Just Say Die

_A/N: So, I just realized that the previous chapter, "Crossing...", is pretty darn short, and that's just not fair to all of you lovely people. So, here's another, longer chapter. Equally, if not more entertaining than the last. So, in turn, I didn't lie to you all, after all. Hope you continue to enjoy, so; here ya go!

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_**Just say die, **_

"Duck!" yelled a green haired man, as a bullet came barreling towards his partner.

It had been just over a year since these two had paired up, and needless to say, they were a match made in syndicate heaven.

"Head's up!" responded the silver-haired man in kind.

They were basically unstoppable. They had an uncanny way of feeding off of one another, fueling each other to become a ridiculously perfect machine.

"Don't worry, I got him!" yelled the youth as he smirked.

Needless to say, Spike had gotten over his difficulty with killing. Now, it was just as simple as breathing. And Vicious had to commend him for that. Adding his martial art skills along with his natural skills, Spike was amazing. And at times, Vicious was actually a bit jealous. If anyone could every actually hurt him, Spike would be the man to do it.

"You're a mad man, Spiegel!" Vicious shouted to him. 'And thank God for that,' he thought to himself.

_**And that would be pessimistic…**_

It didn't take too long for the two to get out of the mess. It was a hit gone wrong. Let's see…it was supposed to be in and out. Spike and Vicious were supposed to walk in and strike up a casual conversation with the men at the back table. Then, once they got the trust of the men, Spike and Vicious were supposed to order them a drink. A drink that would, of course be spiked. Then, Spike and Vicious were to hail the men a taxi cab, since they would start to feel woozy. And then, Spike and Vicious would simply kill them in the alley next to the bar. Just a simple twist of the neck, and that would be it. In and out.

The men that they were going after were from a rival syndicate. The Jade Foxes. Though this syndicate was far from being powerful, it still posed a threat to the Dragons. So, what is the best way to deal with a threat? Why, no longer make it one, of course. However, these men weren't as gullible or as stupid as Spike and Vicious had hoped.

The two Jade Fox agents almost immediately knew that there was something off about the green and silver-haired youths. Playing along with their rouse, the agents where able to deduce that these to boys were here to kill them. So, being men who enjoyed their lives, they did the only thing that they could. The pulled their guns and shot at the boys.

_**In your mind…**_

Bad idea on the agents' part, though. Spike and Vicious knew that they had been found out and they had their guns drawn before the agents could even reach into their jackets. Bang, bang, and the men were dead. However, their troubles weren't over. Turns out that this bar was a Jade Fox hangout. Killing two meant killing them all. Heaving sighs, the partners looked at each other and got ready to fight.

Flipping over the table that they were sitting at, they were able to stave off the barrage of bullets that flew at them. Hearing many of the men pause to reload their weapons, Spike and Vicious quickly fired off all of their rounds, effectively taking out several of the foxes.

Well, after about and hour and several bullets later, the Jade Foxes were sprawled on the floor, dead. Spike and Vicious, slightly exhausted, surveyed the scene.

"Well, that was quite unnecessary, wouldn't you say, V?" Spike asked as he took a sip of someone's drink.

"Stop mooching off of the dead, and let's go, Spiegel," was Vicious' reply.

"Yes sir," Spike replied rather militaristically. He gave Vicious his usual one-fingered salute, and followed him out of the bar.

_**We can walk across water…**_

Spike and Vicious stood in front of the Elders. Word about their barroom brawl had reached them. Vicious hated being here. He hated the Elders and their insistence of clinging to the old ways. Vicious also hated the way the Elders looked down at him. Over and over, they would tell him of his potential. Then they would tell him that he would never have enough potential. 'Damned old fools' is what Vicious thought of them. Damned old fools, who clearly deserved to die.

Spike, however, had no qualms about them. He didn't necessarily like being around them, but he didn't dislike them. Perhaps that's because they were a definite boost to his ego every time he saw them.

"That was quite and unexpected show," one began. "It was supposed to be simple and there were only supposed to be two deaths. How did it go so wrong, Vicious?"

Refraining himself from saying something snippy, Vicious recounted the story. How typical, he thought. He was obviously being blamed for the way things happened.

"That's enough," another interrupted. "Quite a good job, though. If you had to fail, at least some good came from it. You are an amazing fighter, Spike. One of the best there has ever been in this syndicate. No doubt did you protect Vicious during the skirmish. You could establish yourself as something great, you know."

"Ahh, you're too kind," Spike said. "But don't sell Vicious short, he saved me just as much as I saved him. And besides, he taught me all I know, so kudos for him, too."

The elders simply nodded and dismissed the two.

"Thanks…for that," Vicious quietly muttered.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I know they get on your nerves. I'm sure they're just jealous of you, seeing as though they're all wrinkly and you're not."

Vicious couldn't help but smile at his friend. Wait…friend? Vicious furrowed his brows at this thought. He could never recall ever having an actual 'friend'. There were a lot of lap dogs and such, but no true friends. Wow, this Spike Spiegel really _was_ something.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were coming on to me, Spiegel. Never took you for a fag."

"Hey, shithead, watch it," Spike replied, slugging Vicious in the arm.

"Whatever," he said, punching him back. "Let's go."

* * *

_**Please don't cry…**_

"So, who's the girl?" Spike casually asked Vicious at the breakfast table.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Vicious replied.

"You can't lie to me, ya know. I've known you for two years, now, and I can practically predict your next move."

"Really? Then predict this." Vicious said calmly as he chucked his butter knife at Spike's head.

Effortlessly catching it, Spike tossed the utensil back at him.

"Careful, you still need to 'butter you roll'," Spike mocked.

"God, you're disgusting, ass."

"Whatever. So, who in the hell is she?"

'You're not gonna leave me along about this, are you, Spiegel?"

"Nope. I'll get it outta ya somehow," Spike said darkly as he tossed his partner a clever look.

"Fine," Vicious said, giving in to the stare. "She's in the lower ranks. I believe she is new. She has long, golden hair and the most amazing blue eyes…"

"Gee, sounds like Barbie," Spike scoffed as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. "What's her name?"

"I think it's Leeman. Julia Leeman."

"Sounds like a tool to me."

Poor Spike didn't see the fork coming. All he knew was that it was now sticking out of his left hand. He looked at it, rather horrified. Then, he looked at Vicious, who had an evil scowl across his face.

"You…you stabbed me with a fork?" Spike shrieked.

"Watch how you talk about people," Vicious calmly replied as he settled back into his stoic, relaxed self.

"God!" Spike yelled as he pulled out the fork. "Ya sick fuck! If you liked her so much, all you had to do was tell me, God!"

Spike sprung up from the table and went to bandage his hand. A smug smile settled over Vicious' face.

"If you want me too, and if you'll apologize for my hand," Spike yelled from the bathroom, "then by all means, I'll even help ya get the girl, ya jerk!"

"If you promise not to fall for her yourself then be my guest," Vicious replied. He knew he was no good around girls, though they flocked to him. Spike, however, had that effervescent personality that allowed him to talk to anyone of any station of any gender at any time.

"She's your girl, V, therefore, I don't want her," Spike answered, returning to the kitchen. "But I still can't believe you stabbed me with a fork."

"Yeah, sorry about that…" Vicious murmured, flashing Spike a cocky smile.

* * *

_**It's just a prayer for the dying…**_

The monthly mixer. It was always somewhat amusing and out of the ordinary. Then again, the thought of a mafia having a "get to know your fellow assassin" party didn't necessarily scream normalcy. Spike and Vicious normally avoided the circus. They were the only assassins they cared to associate with. However, tonight was different, and they had a very good reason to go 'mix' with the newbies.

"So, you see that guy over there," the young man crooned as he pointed in the direction of a silver-haired man, who was wearing a slightly uncomfortable look. "He wants to jump your bones, simple as that."

The young woman looked at him, big blue eyes boring into his mismatched brown ones. She briefly wondered why his eyes where like that, but then her attention went back to what he had said. A slight blush stained her fair cheeks as she tossed a smiled towards the man in the chair.

"Really? Vicious? But he's so high up…" she said, her voice was hushed and excited.

"Yeah, but love knows no rank. Now, why don't you take these drinks," he said, handing the girl two glasses of scotch, "and go talk to him. Trust me; it will be worth your while." The man winked at her, then got lost in the crowd.

"Hook and line, V," Spike said as he popped up behind Vicious. "Now, all you need to do is _sink her_," Spike said the last words with an emphasis that could only mean one thing.

As they watched the girl nervously walk towards the table, Spike headed towards the door.

"I'll just get a room tonight, V. So don't worry, there'll be no interruptions from me!"

'Damn you, Spiegel. Don't shout it to the world,' Vicious thought. His thoughts were quickly put to a halt, though.

"Um…hi…Vicious…" the timid girl shyly stuttered.

"Hello…Julia. Please have a seat."

_**I just don't know what's got into me.**_

As Spike walked out of the ballroom, he smiled to himself. His friend was gonna get laid. And it was all thanks to him. Well, maybe him and a little bit of fate. But mostly him.

He pushed open HQ doors and stepped out into the warm summer night. He lit a cigarette and strolled down the street, oblivious to the world. His thoughts were on something. Well, someone, more accurately.

She was pretty, the Julia girl. Very pretty, indeed. That hair, like gold. That skin, like porcelain. And those eyes. Good grief, he almost thought he was going to drown if he looked in them too long.

But what in the hell was he thinking? He couldn't feel this way. This was his friend's girl. He couldn't dare have feelings for her. He wouldn't. Vicious was too good of a friend, his only friend, really. And Spike would be damned if he ever let a girl come between him and his best friend.

Best friend? Heh that was a funny thought in his head. I mean, yeah, he had friends and everything. Some of them were good friends, too. The brothers, the Shin/Lin's as he and Vicious called them, were nice enough. But Vicious was Spike's best friend. His brother forged in blood and death and the love that came with knowing someone always had your back.

No, he just wouldn't let it happen. Spike was prone to doing stupid things, but he was never going to let some girl break apart the best friendship he ever had. So, he'd just put this Julia out of his mind.

God, sometimes he just didn't know what got into him.

* * *

_A/N: So, here ya go again. And you know, I just realized: I do a lot of these A/N's. But hey, I just wanna seem personable and such. Until next time, I s'pose. And next time, I won't hesitate to post 2 chapters:)_


	5. Been Crossin' That Bridge

_A/N: So, i promised to update, like, two days ago, but I never got any lovely reviews. But thanks to my one recent reviewer, _WaitingForYesterday, _I got my but in gear, and posted this chapter for ya all. This is a pivotal chapter, I guess setting up for the inevitable. So, read, **review please**, and enjoy!

* * *

_

_**Been crossin' that bridge  
**__**With lessons I've learned…**_

"Six months already?" a fruffy-headed man called from the beige leather couch. "It seems like only yesterday I was providing you with your first hook-up."

"Fuck you Spike," a man called from the bathroom.

"Is that an offer? Cause I don't think Julia would appreciate that too much, V!" Spike joked as he headed towards the bathroom.

"How do I look?" Vicious asked as he struggled with the difficult decision of leaving his hair down or pulling it back.

"Eh, you look like a guy who's been pussy-whipped by big blue eyes," Spike said as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Sounds like someone's just jealous because he doesn't have a steady pussy to be whipped by," Vicious smirked as he pulled his hair back.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, why don't you just cut your hair, then you won't have a problem, Fabio."

"Oh, right, and let it become some unruly mop like yours, Spike. I think not."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with my hair, bub!" he yelled, decking Vicious in the shoulder.

The doorbell interrupted their mock fight, and Spike headed towards the door.

"Should I tell her you're still fussing with your hair?"

"Just let her in, dip shit."

_**Playing with fire  
**__**And not getting burned…**_

Spike did as he was told, and admitted Julia into the apartment. She looked rather beautiful, in a long dark blue dress. It was strappy and had a slit up the right side. Her hair was drawn back into a sophisticated bun, and small, golden ringlets surrounded her face. A lovely vision, indeed.

"Hey, you look good," Spike said, trying his best to not appreciate her appearance.

"Thanks. And you look…relaxed," Julia responded, noting his gray sweat pants and white tank.

"Yeah…I have a date myself, tonight. Her name's Lady TV, and let's just say, I know how to push all of the right buttons."

Julia couldn't help but giggle. Ever since she started dating Vicious, she had also spent a lot of time with Spike. They were three parts of an exciting person. Vicious was the intimidation and the brains of course, Julia was the looks and the innocence, and Spike was the cool and the fun.

She liked Spike. Liked him a lot. But she was with Vicious, who was absolutely wonderful to her. He treated her like a princess and catered to her every whim. In his work, he was cold and dangerous, but to her, he was warm and secure. But that somehow irritated Julia every now and then. She liked a little danger and mystery. Or she at least liked they way Spike portrayed it.

But she quickly put that out of her mind when Vicious emerged from the bathroom. He looked damn sexy, like always. Crisp, black suit; silver hair pulled back and that appreciative smile on his handsome face. That's right, that's why she fell in love with Vicious in the first place. Now, if only Spike would stop barging into her brain.

_**

* * *

I may not know what you're going through… **_

It had not gone unnoticed by Vicious, the way that Spike and Julia looked at each other. It had perturbed him a bit. And made him jealous. Did Julia like Spike? He couldn't blame a woman for falling for the idiot, but he would whole-heartedly blame Julia for it. Deciding that they're witty banter and awkward stares had gone on long enough, Vicious made his prescence know.

"You look gorgeous, Julia," Vicious actually cooed as he warmly embraced her.

Spike took a step back and made gagging noises. It was disgusting what love did to his friend.

"Are you guys gonna get a room, or am I gonna have to?" Spike feigned disgust.

"Shut up, Spiegel. We won't bother your 'date' tonight. But do remember to give you hand a rest, okay," Vicious chided as he lead Julia out of the apartment.

"Fuck off, V. Good night, Julia." And with that, Spike closed the door.

_**

* * *

But time is the space between me and you… **_

Spike sat down on the couch and clicked on the TV. It'd be another night alone for him. Sure, he could have easily had ten dates lined up for tonight alone, but he didn't want a simple lay. He actually wanted what Vicious had. No, not _what_ he had, like, in the "I want Julia" sense, but in the "I want love sense". At least, that what Spike tried to convince himself of.

Over the six months Julia had been hanging around, Spike was finding himself increasingly attracted to her. She was so fragile and needy and pretty and obedient. At first, Spike was disgusted by her loyalty to Vicious. But now, he actually kind of longed for it. He just wanted true human interaction. Yeah, that's it…interaction. But definitely _not_ Julia.

He was just jealous of how much Vicious had, and how much he lacked. Damn, it was going to be a long night.

_**

* * *

There is a light through that window… **_

Vicious woke to the sun dancing on his face. He slowly sat up and replayed last night in his mind. It was a good night. Everything went well for their six month anniversary. Very well indeed. He glanced to his left and watched Julia sleeping soundly.

He decided at that moment that he loved Julia. Huh. That was also odd for him. First, a true friend, and now a girl he loved. Life in the syndicate wasn't as bad as some had made it out to be.

He rose from bed and pulled on his boxers for gratuities sake, then headed to the window. He looked out at the rising sun and smiled when cool hands wrapped around his waist. He was truly happy in that moment.

_**

* * *

Hold on say yes, while people say no… **_

Spike woke up to the sound of static. The movie he was watching was obviously over. He stared at the ceiling for a while.

"You're a douche!"

That's what the ceiling said. Or at least what it read. Spike had put a sticky note on the ceiling above that spot as a joke. But right now, the paper was just mocking him.

"Yeah, well, I don't go around calling _you_ names," Spike retorted as he got up.

It was a little before seven and Vicious wasn't back. Not that Spike actually expected him to come back last night, anyway. He was probably still reaping the benefits of remembering his anniversary.

"Always the lucky one, aren't we, Spiegel?" Spike questioned his reflection. "Another Saturday night alone. We'll remedy this one day, won't we?"

His mind flashed an image of a blond haired, blue eyed woman and lightly whispered 'yes'. Casually shaking his head and making his way to the kitchen, Spike simply uttered 'no', hoping that his brain would honestly listen to him.

_**

* * *

Life carries on… **_

Vicious sighed contently as he kissed Julia's forehead. She told him she loved him, what more could he ask for?

Spike sighed uncomfortably. He realized he was falling for Julia. He was just asking for death.

_**It goes on.** _

**

* * *

**

A/N: So, another chpater over and done. Hope you liked it. If you're nice and give me a nice review, I'll more than gladly post another one for ya! Thanks a ton, you're awesome! Have a nice day!


	6. I'm Crossing That Bridge

_A/N: Don't really think I've got any preliminary things to say, except: Enjoy!

* * *

_

_**I'm crossin' that bridge  
**__**With lessons I've learned…**_

"So, ever going to tell me how you lost you eye, Spike?" Vicious asked of his partner, one day out of the blue.

The two young men where sitting around the table, eating a light lunch of turkey sandwiches and beer. It wasn't an everyday thing to ask each other about their past. If it wasn't offered, then it wasn't asked.

"Huh? Why do you wanna know?" Spike questioned, a bit caught off guard.

"Hmm? I dunno. I guess it would be interesting to know. That, and Julia has asked me about it was well."

"Really? Well, the story isn't that amazing."

"So? Tell me anyway."

With a shrug, Spike began the story.

"Let's see…I was 19. I got into a really bad street fight with the biggest gang in Lenox. Turns out I was hitting on one of their girls and they got butt hurt and decided to take me out. They jumped me, beat me up real bad, and then they were going to kill me.

"Um…the cops came and there was a big shoot out and then someone grabbed me and pulled me into an alleyway. Essentially, they saved my ass. I ended up in the hospital and the doctors told me that I had actually been grazed just under my eye by a bullet and due to the damage; they had to take my eye out and give me a new one.

"They were low on cybernetic eyes and I was low on insurance, so I got this model, which isn't perfect. In sight or color. But eh, it works."

"Why don't you get a new one? The Syndicate will pay for it," Vicious asked him.

"I dunno. I've gotten used to it, I guess."

"Fair enough. So, you don't know who grabbed you that night?"

"Eh. It's a mystery to me. What's also strange is that my hospital bill was paid off in full as well. And a couple of months later, you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. That was a weird year for me, now that I think about it."

Spike and Vicious looked at each other and then laughed.

"You're right, Spiegel: that story wasn't very interesting."

* * *

_**I'm playing with fire  
**__**And not getting burned...**_

"So," Spike began, "Since we're getting to know each other…when did you start doing drugs?"

"Who says I use?" Vicious calmly asked.

"No one. But I've seen you're bloodshot eyes quite a few times. Not to mention your jitters every now and then."

"You really are observant, aren't you, dick?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, it's not that amazing of a story."

"So? Spill it anyway."

"Uh huh…well…I think I was 15. Yeah, it was my birthday, in fact. My family spent the day at my brother's football game. I opted to stay home and throw my own party. I had gotten some crystal from some junkie at school, and I figured that I might as well go for it. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

"After that, it got increasingly easy to get over the burn and everything. So, it became a weekly habit. Nothing too big. I never became dependent or anything, it was just something to fall back on, I guess.

"When I got involved in the Syndicate, that's when I experimented with Bloody Eye. It was an interesting feeling. It was like everything was advanced and I liked the way that felt. But like I said, I'm not dependent or anything."

"Ever thought about rehab?" Spike honestly questioned.

"No. Once again, like I said: I'm. not. dependent."

"Fair enough. So, did your parents ever find out about your little birthday gift to you?"

"Yeah. My dad found some stuff in my room and got really pissed about it. He yelled at me. He threatened me, then he got fed up and decided he was going to send me to some troubled kid school, then send me to the military. That wasn't what I wanted with my life, so I killed the driver that was taking me to the school, I escaped and I came to the Dragons."

Once again, the two comrades looked at each other. After a tense second to let it all soak in, they laughed once more.

"You're right, V: that story wasn't that amazing."

* * *

_**I may not know what you're going through…**_

"So Spike," Julia began, "Are you sure we should be doing this?"

"Geez, Julia, we're just going to get a burger. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

"Yeah, I know, but still…"

"Just get in the car, Christ."

Spike and Julia sped off to Martian Joe's, hoping that he could still get a discount, even though never showed up for work that morning, almost three years ago. The pair where eventually going to meet up with Vicious at the pool hall, but while they waited for him to get out of his meeting with the Elders, they got hungry.

Finding nothing wrong with the situation, Spike suggested a quick bite. Julia, on the other hand, was quite skeptical. It was like she was expecting something to happen, but Spike only wanted to eat.

"See, I told you we were just gonna get some food. You worry too much about what your precious Vicious will think," Spike scoffed as they headed into Mickey's Pool Place.

"Well, he has been known to be a bit jealous at times," Julia giggled.

"Why in the hell would he be jealous of me?"

They entered the bar and were greeted by an upset Red Dragon.

"Geez, V, they put you through the ringer, eh?" Spike asked, easily noticing that Vicious' meeting with the Elders went terrible, as expected.

"Shut it, and break already!" Vicious bit out as he tossed a cue at Spike.

_**But time is the space between me and you…**_

"So, what happened in there?" Spike asked, truly concerned for his friend.

"What do you think happened?" Vicious fumed as he missed the nine ball.

"Sorry, bud…but you know they're just a bunch of old, wrinkly shits. Don't worry about them, they're not worth you're time," Spike did his best to console, without seeming too concerned.

"Yeah, Vicious," Julia began as she placed a hand on his arm. "I love you, so that's all that should really matter."

Vicious let her kiss him and he relaxed a bit more. All he really needed was he best friend and his woman. That was definitely something to look forward to in his life.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, as he sunk that damn nine ball.

"I'll go get us some beers," Julia called out as she headed to the bar.

"That's some woman you got, V."

"Yeah, I guess so," he retorted, less than enthused.

"Hey, do I sense trouble in paradise?"

"I don't know," Vicious sighed as he sat down the pool cue. "She just seems to be preoccupied as of late. I don't know what it is."

"Who knows…women have a habit of being fickle."

"What did you two do while I was…there?"

"Eh, nothin' really. We grabbed something to eat, then came here. No big deal."

"Yeah…hey Spike?" Vicious questioned with a true heir of concern in his voice.

"Yeah, V?"

"Stay away from that woman."

"What? You mean Julia?" Spike asked, trying to keep cool, but finding it difficult.

"Yeah, Julia. She's trouble, and I'd hate to see you get hurt."

"Yeah, sure…whatever you say, V." Spike brushed off as Julia came back with their drinks.

* * *

_**There is a light through that window…**_

As the game of pool continued, Spike couldn't help but dwell on what Vicious had said. What did he mean by that? His words weren't threatening in any way, so it didn't seem as if Vicious found their flirtatious behave out of the ordinary. But they way he had said that was as if he was warning Spike. But warning him of what?

'Julia can't be _that_ bad, now can she be?' Spike thought. He glanced at her and she gave him a small smile. 'Nah, she can't be,' he concluded.

As the hall began to close down, the trio headed out.

"So, where are we off too now…?" Spike was cut off by Vicious' communicator.

As he answered, a look of pure hatred came over his features.

"Must be the Van again," Spike said to Julia.

"…Fine, I'm on my way," Vicious concluded his call.

"What was that about?"

"They remember they had something to tell me. Guess they're not quite done 'ripping me a new one', as you so eloquently put it, Spike."

"Yeah, whaddaya know?" Spike said. "Sorry, V."

"Just…just take her home," Vicious sighed as he headed towards his car.

"Whatever you say, V," Spike answered.

"And remember, Spike," Vicious said as he turned to face his friend. "Watch out."

'What in the hell does he _mean_ by that!' Spike thought as he headed off to the car.

"Shall we, then?" Spike asked as he held the door open for Julia.

"Sure, Spike, let's go," she said, as she slide into the seat.

* * *

_**Hold on say yes, while people say no…**_

"Stop…no…I really don't think we should be doing this," came the breathless reply as the powerful kiss was broken.

"Why, don't you want to do this? I've seen the way you look at me."

"Yeah, but what about Vicious?"

"What about him?"

"If he ever found out about this, he'd kill the both of us."

"How would he found out? You're not gonna tell, are you?"

"He's not dumb."

"So he's not. But let's think about the consequences later, shall we? All I want, right now, is you."

"But…" the startled reply was cut off by another powerful kiss.

"I promise it'll be worth you while, Spike," Julia purred as she pulled him in for another kiss.

Needless to say, Spike could have pushed Julia off of him at any time. From the moment she first kissed him until now, he could have stopped her, but he found it quite hard.

'So _this_ is what he meant by 'watch out', Spike thought as she kissed him again.

* * *

_A/N: And the plot thickens, I suppose. I'll admit, the latter part of this chapter is strictly my own personal feelings towards a blonde assasin. I'm gonna keep it real and say that I don't really like Julia. Why? I dunno, really, there's just something about her. Do I abhor her? No. But it's pretty darn close to that feeling. And oh yeah; THANK YOU! to all of my wonderful reviewers! You guys are awesome and your reviews are not only a confidence booster, they really let me know that this brain-child of mine is not a failure. So, thanks again, and don't forget to hit that button! Unitl next time!_


	7. Cause Life Carries On

_A/N: So, I decided to stop being lazy, and I've gone ahead and posted the second to last chapter. In this one, I'm doing my own interpretation of why Spike showed up, bloody and beaten, on Julia's doorstep on night. Is this accurate? I dunno, probably not. But hey, it does work for my story. It's kinda short and it definitely is a prelude to a heartbreak. So, read and enjoy!  
__

* * *

__**Cause life carries on…**_

And who knows how far the night would have gone? Too bad the two were carjacked. And this is why necking in the backseat in the bad part of the city can get you killed.

Like idiots, neither Julia nor Spike were armed, so they had to rely on their hand-to-hand skills. Too bad the jackers preferred guns. Spike told Julia to run while he fended them off. There were only three of them. Spike could handle himself.

Julia, fearful and shaking, quickly kissed Spike as she dodged into an alley, unnoticed by the thugs. Spike readied himself and fought them off, but these guys were crafty. And lucky. Mostly lucky.

By the end of it all, the three jackers were dead, but Spike wasn't doing too much better. He had been shot twice: once in the leg and once in the chest. He was in bad shape, indeed. Heaving a sigh and pulling himself up, Spike stumbled down the street. He must have walked for hours, so it seemed to him. He finally made it to his destination: Julia's apartment. He rapped on the door and waited for it to open.

* * *

_**It goes on…**_

He woke up to humming. Such beautiful humming.

"Just like that…sing for me," Spike rasped.

Julia smiled at him.

"Welcome back, Spike. You had me worried for a minute."

"So, how long was I out?"

"A little over two days."

"Great," Spike drawled, not at all excited.

"So," Julia whispered as she kissed Spike tenderly. "How about we finish what we started?"

"Hey, I'm an injured man, here," Spike said, eyes wide and heart racing.

"I'll be gentle," she hushed seductively.

* * *

_**It goes on…**_

"So, what in the hell happened to you?" Vicious questioned Spike as he ambled home a week later.

"Eh…thugs wanted the car. Couldn't let 'em take it without a fight, now could I?"

"What hospital where you in?"

"Um…one on the other side of town."

"Why?"

"Why what? I guess that's the one they wanted to take me to."

Vicious eyed Spike, knowing full well he was lying. When he heard what happened, he had every hospital in the city checked for Spike and Julia. He had no idea what had happened. And he didn't know wherethe two hadgone. But he did know that they weren't in the hospital. Or her apartment. But Vicious didn't want to push it at the moment.

"So," Spike said, seeing his friend in thought, "What did the wrinkle squad want?"

"Hm? Oh…they just felt the need to inform me that a snake cannot eat a dragon."

"Gee, cryptic much?"

"Just what I said. You want some tea?" Vicious asked as he headed to the kitchen.

"Nah, just get me a beer, and I'll be fine."

* * *

_**Life carries on.**_

It had been another three weeks and Spike was almost fully healed. He always healed quickly, so it was no surprise. Things with Vicious, however, weren't so good. Spike knew that he knew something. But to what extent? He sure wasn't going to bring it up because that would be signing his own death warrant.

Spike also hadn't seen Julia around, either. She was back at her apartment, now, Spike figured. When he turned up on her doorstep after the attempted jacking, they had went to another town and held up in a hotel, knowing Vicious would be searching every hospital around.

It had been a week, indeed for the him and Julia. But as Spike thought back on it, he felt pretty bad about what he was doing to Vicious. This was his girl, after all. But she came to him, so it wasn't entirely Spike's fault. And hey, she had even said she loved him. What do you know? As long as Vicious didn't find out, everything would be fine. And at the rate he and Julia were going, the two would be broken up in no time.

Life always had some crazy way of carrying on, leaving people behind, sweeping people away and acting as if nothing had ever happened.

"Well, I'm heading out, V. I've got some things to do. I'll be back later," Spike called as he headed out the door.

"Sure…knock yourself out." Vicious bitterly whispered.

He wasn't an idiot. A fool for love, but no idiot. He told Spike to be careful, but it just didn't get through his thick head.

* * *

A/N: So, there ya go. And yeah, very short. But I figured I'd let you wait for the finale. I really hope you're all likin' it so far. So please, review kindly so I can stop being lazy and get this last chapter out for you lickity split! Thanks for sticking with me! 


	8. When Nothing Else Matters

_A/N: I truly do apologize to all of you who are following this fic. I've just been plain lazy/exhausted from school, and I just haven't kept up my responsibilities to you lovely readers. Well, anyway, here is the last chapter. It's particularly angsty and quite crushing. Read, enjoy, sorry for the lateness and why not go ahead and leave a nice review!

* * *

__**When nothing else matters…**_

They were laughing. Laughing like disgusting kids in love. Then they were kissing. And he could feel his blood boil. He stood on the stairs and watched as the two approached. There were still oblivious to his prescence; God they were so into each other at the moment. As he continued to stare at them, all he could think of was 'why'?

"I'm really thinking about getting out of this thing. And you should totally get out with me."

"Spike," Julia cooed. "Do you think we can?"

"Sure I do…oh…um…hi, V. What are you, um, doing here?" Spike asked as he spotted Vicious.

"One could say the same for you, Spiegel."

Uh-oh, he called him 'Spiegel' in that cold tone. It was just like when they were starting out. Like when Vicious still didn't like him.

"Vicious…I'm sorry. It just kind of…happened," Julia began to reason.

"Right. Things like this always just always kind of…'happen'," Vicious replied quite snidely.

Vicious walked down the steps that lead to Julia's apartment, and brushed past the lovers.

"V, come on, let's talk about this!" Spike called to him, almost desperately.

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied without even turning around. "And don't bother to come home; you no longer have a home with me. You can pick up your things tomorrow while I'm out."

"Vicious, please. Stop!" Spike practically yelled as he grabbed his friend's arm.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Vicious screamed as he wrenched out of Spike's grasp.

"I'm sorry. Please, I truly am. Let's just…cool off and talk."

"I don't want to cool off. I don't want to talk," Vicious said to Spike as he stared him in the eyes. "It doesn't matter. You don't, she doesn't…I don't. Nothing. Nothing else matters."

Spike couldn't help but shiver from the coldness in his voice. And the hatred and hurt in his eyes was unbearable. For the first time in their almost four years of knowing each other, Spike looked away from Vicious, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

"From this day on, _Spiegel_, you and I are no longer friends. You are my enemy. You betrayed me and hurt me more than anyone ever could. I loved you the most, Spike. And now, I hate everything you are."

And with that, Vicious disappeared in the night.

* * *

_**I just don't know what's got into me.**_

Vicious sat on the beige leather couch, tears escaping his silver eyes. Silver eyes that had seen love and life. Silver eyes that fell cold and cruel and empty once again.

What in the hell was wrong with him? Why did he ever get attached to Spike? And why in the fuck did he ever fall for that damn broad. She was more trouble than she was worth. They both were.

He stared up at the ceiling, only to be called a douche. Actually, that damned sticker was staring down at him. Beyond upset, Vicious pulled out his gun and shot the damn ceiling right where the note stuck.

"Fuck!" he yelled, as he sank to the floor.

He hated feeling this way. He hated feeling so damn betrayed. It wasn't fair! How dare this happen to him. Why did he deserve this? Things were good. He had a friend most would die for, he had an amazing woman, and he had a good life. But that was the opportune word: had.

And what had Spike meant when he said he was "thinking about getting out of this"? Getting out of what? The syndicate? And if so, why would he ask her? Spike should have asked _him_! His best friend. Vicious would get out of the syndicate in a heartbeat. Things weren't as glamorous as he wanted it to be, and the Van wouldn't stop riding his ass every chance they got.

But now he saw just how much Spike cared for him. And that was not a lot. He took his girl, he took his friendship…he took everything.

Vicious wiped his tears and stood up. What did it matter, anyway? He never needed friends, he never need love and companionship. He didn't have it before, and he wouldn't have, and he definitely wouldn't need it now. He smirked to no one in particular as his heart became incased once more in that impenetrable block of ice.

Ha, love and companionship. He must have been out of his mind to have ever accepted such weakness in his life. He chuckled to himself as he poured a glass of vodka.

"God, I just don't know what got into me."

* * *

_**It's just a prayer for the dying…**_

As the days faded into weeks, Vicious immersed himself into his work. He heard a lot of people snickering and whispering about Spike and Julia…and himself. But he brushed it off…it didn't matter at all to him.

"Hey Vicious," Wade called to him as he sat at his desk.

"Wade," Vicious quietly acknowledged.

"You've been working pretty hard lately. Keep this up, and you'll work yourself to death."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Vicious thoughtfully pondered. "My prayers would finally be answered."

Wade looked at Vicious rather oddly. He was back to his cold, hard self again.

"Whatever you say, Vicious. I'll catch ya later."

"Yeah…just a prayer. What would I pray for, if I knew it would come true?" Vicious though once again after Wade had left. "I guess I'd wish for him back. He was the only one who ever seemed to care. But now I'm just talking crazy. I only wish him dead."

He felt a slight pang, as though he was lying. But Spike had betrayed him; it was as simple as that. And Vicioussimply would not stand for suchutter disregard for his feelings. But it still hurt, nonetheless.

"I've got to get out of here," Vicious said to himself.

He turned off the lights and headed out. He decided to go to _Le Chate Dior_. Perhaps the band would be playing some 'Lost Man Blues'. He really needed something to soothe his fading soul. He pulled his jacket tighter around him; it was starting to snow. He lit up a cigarette, blew some smoke towards the sky, and walked down the snow-flaked street. As he disappeared into the crowd, Vicious was, once again, a lost man in a truly lost world.

_**For the dying.**_

_AND SO THIS ANGEL BEGINS  
__HIS DESCENT…

* * *

A/N: And so, that's the end of that. I really hope you all liked it. And I hope I got the point across that Vicious might not have been as bad as we thought he was. Through the pain of betrayal, I could see him becoming the crazed man we know best of all. I just hope I conveyed it. But enough of my explanations and grovelings...time for thank you's: _

Franypants: thanks for letting me be a part of that 'lucky 30'!

Kate Spiegel: glad you saw Vicious as getting the shaft; it's what i tried to get across.

microfiber shoelaces: I really hope you enjoyed how this back story turned out.

BunnWw: glad to see that you enjoyed it.

Angie: thanks for the review and I hope I kept the ending smart...I really aimed for that.

TwiliteTiger: glad you enjoyed it!

and to my best reviewer: WaitingForYesterday, I can't thank you enough. It was definitely reassuring to hear from you every chapter to let me knowI should keep going. Thanks so much and I'm sorry for the long wait for this last chapter.

And to all of you who may not have reviewed, I still hope you enjoyed what I wrote. Now, one final thing: would you like to see me attempt another fic in this extended songfic style? I'm, pretty sure it'll be about Faye this time. Just let me know and I'll see what I can do. Thanks again and have an awesome day!


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